At the End of Time
by hester4418
Summary: Voyager never returned to New Earth.


DISCLAIMER: _Star Trek: Voyager _and all its characters belong to Paramount Pictures; no infringement of copyright is intended. The story however belongs to me.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The inspiration for this story came directly from Laura W's beautiful "Time On My Hands" (especially part 11). I read it one night and woke up the next morning with this little piece in my head that demanded to be written down. I also can't deny a certain influence from Jordan Trevor's equally beautiful "Defining Parameters" which still lingers in my mind a full month after reading it. Thank you both so much for sharing!

Written November 2012.

**At the End of Time  
****by Hester (hester4418)**

It was time.

She was prepared. They both had been, for years. But now the time had arrived.

She turned slowly, taking stock. The years had been good to them. Mostly at least. Sixty years, a lifetime. Together, alone, but never lonely. In all those years, no visitor, no message, nothing. Just the two of them, growing old together. And it had been wonderful.

It hadn't been the life she would haven chosen for herself. But she had been happier than she ever thought possible. He completed her. She completed him. Two halves of one whole. Bound together by a love so deep that it scared her at first. But she had come to accept, and cherish that love. It nurtured them, buoyed them, strengthened them. Carried them through times of despair. Thankfully, there had been only few of those.

She walked through their house in silence. Their real house, not the gray shelter _Voyager_ had left behind. A log cabin, just like he had envisioned it. Envisioned it, planned it, built it. Added to it numerous times over the years. He had surprised her again and again with his ideas, delighting at the way her eyes lit up when he presented his plans. And always, always anticipating her needs before she knew them herself.

The bathtub had been first. The headboards next. The first log room. Then, after a while, the full size bed. More rooms. New tables, chairs, cupboards and shelves. Much later, a rocking chair, wide enough to accommodate them both.

She touched the smooth wooden surfaces of their furniture, each piece a labor of love. Hand-woven rugs covered the floor, intricately patterned with both tribal art and more modern geometric shapes. Reflections of their personalities, so disparate and yet so similar.

They had both been warriors, brave, strong, fierce and stubborn. But also passionate, gentle, vulnerable. Destined for each other. Never afraid to fight. Never afraid to make up.

She remembered their talks, their laughter, their long walks along the river, their nights under the stars. Reminiscing, wishing, longing. Stargazing. Making love. Wrapping themselves around each other until neither knew where one ended and the other began. Kissing, slowly, sweetly, deeply. Most often passionately. Sometimes desperately.

Their first kiss, at sunset. She had kissed him. He had been surprised. Surprised, and cautious, but she had kissed him again and he had smiled. Happily, joyfully. As if she had given him the greatest gift in the world. He had repaid her many times over.

She moved on, her gaze trailing over the walls. Paintings, carvings, collected mementos from their day-trips. He had been the artist, the creator. She had been the scientist, the collector. Together, they had made this house into a home. She softly pulled the door closed when she stepped outside.

It was fall now, leaves on the ground. They rustled under her feet as she crossed the clearing.

"We should get ready," he would always say as soon as the trees were starting to change color.

"We still have time," she would always reply, savoring the last remnants of summer.

Time to prepare. Stacking wood for winter. Collecting the last fruit from the trees. Curling up inside under warm blankets, whiling away the long nights with stories from their lives of long ago.

Years later, the words had still been the same, but their meaning had changed. Their bodies had changed. Once proud and strong, now frail and stooped. Cold seeping into their bones more easily. But their minds had still been clear, their love strong as ever.

"Don't ever leave me," he had whispered one night, clinging to her in the darkness.

"I won't," she had promised, but they had both known that this was not a promise they could simply decide to keep.

And then he had left her. And now it was time.

The shuttle was ready, had been ready for years. But she had been right. They had still had time, much more than they had dared to hope for.

She struggled with the step. Just one step up and through the hatch, but her weary old limbs protested against the motion. Moving him had been easier. The shuttle's transporter still worked flawlessly.

After all these years, she thought she would have trouble remembering how to set a course. But she didn't. It still came naturally, and she tapped the buttons swiftly. Alpha Quadrant, autopilot. It didn't matter how long it took, or if they ever arrived.

They had argued about it, of course. For years. Not daily, but yearly, always on the anniversary of _Voyager_'s departure.

"They'll come," she would say.

"What if they don't?" he would ask.

And she would turn those sparkling blue eyes on him that he never could resist, and she would say with quiet conviction, "Then we'll go to them."

And he would relent.

For a few years the arguing had stopped, the longing for their distant home superseded by the grief pulling them closer to this one.

The first one wasn't supposed to happen. Wasn't supposed to exist, or to perish so soon.

"We can't," she had said through her tears, weeping for the life they had inadvertently created, against all precautions.

"How can we not?" he had insisted, kissing her tears away and telling her that it would be all right. Fate had decided, and who were they to argue against fate?

But fate had been cruel. She had almost bled to death after the accident, and the new life had quietly slipped away from her. He had worried about her for months, nursing her back to health. When she could walk again, they had wept together at the small mound covered with beautiful flowers. And had agreed. This time, they would consciously tempt fate. It owed them. And fate had seemed to agree.

Nine months of anticipation. Bittersweet at first, happiness returning gradually. Twelve hours of agony. And then joy, breathless, exuberant, radiant joy. Pure bliss, reflected in clear dark eyes in a tiny face, staring up at them in wonder. And then pain, so much pain. She had thought it would tear them apart. The tears they had cried at that second small mound should have lasted for a lifetime.

They had stopped tempting fate after the third. Maybe it had been the virus, maybe it had been something else. They would never know.

She tapped one last button and watched the planet drop away. Stars filled the viewscreen. So beautiful. Sparkling, twinkling, always tempting. Finally they were going back.

Then she turned. He was waiting.

She cuddled up to him the way she had done for sixty years. His body was still warm, his scent comfortingly familiar. Only the sound was missing, the constant beat that had lulled her to sleep for decades in the warm security of his embrace. Now she kissed him, embraced him and closed her eyes.

She wasn't sure how long it would take. They had never taken the shuttle out before, had never tempted fate that way. But if memory served her right, the virus would attack within the hour, maybe two. It didn't matter. She was ready.

It was time.

-==/\==-

It was time.

He was tense. For sixty years he had worked toward this goal. Another day, and he would finally reach it. Would it be too late? He had to believe that it would not.

"Admiral Kim!"

A voice behind him, announcing the unthinkable. His orders, terse in his ears. Why were the turbolifts always slowest at times of urgency?

The shuttle touched down gently, securely caught in the haze of the tractor beam. He pressed the door release himself. The moment the hatch swung open, he knew he would be stepping into a tomb.

They looked peaceful, content. Much later he would find the padd with their logs, would learn about their life together, the great love they shared. And he would cry with relief at the knowledge that they had been happy.

But now, he would take them home.

It was time.

-==/ The End \==-


End file.
